


Something Feels Right (We Might Both Be Alive)

by Angel_of_Brahma



Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: Curt got stabbed, First fic for this fandom, Fluff, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Canon, the hurt is minimal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24830497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angel_of_Brahma/pseuds/Angel_of_Brahma
Summary: For the Spies Are Forever discord. Title from Being A Person by Squalloscope.
Relationships: Owen Carvour/Agent Curt Mega
Comments: 6
Kudos: 66





	Something Feels Right (We Might Both Be Alive)

It was rare that Owen ever got a good night's sleep. It came with the job, he supposed. Being a spy meant any attempt at a routine was ruined once it was founded. He enjoyed the night, though. There was something in the atmosphere of it that he loved. He found peace in its silence, a hot mug of tea in one hand and a dense book of poetry in the other. It was a time that was truly his own. In a world so desperately chaotic, it was his one calm moment. It had a rhythm all its own.

The rhythm was broken that night, however, by a knock at the door.

Owen rolled his eyes at the sound and sighed, sliding his bookmark into its place. He barely even bothered to think who would be calling to his house at 1am.

Owen’s eyes went wide at the sight. It was Curt Mega, gasping and bleeding, nails digging into wood as he clutched the door-frame for dear life. He grinned softly at the sight of Owen.

“Christ, love, what the hell?”

“Mission went…” He gestured to his shirt, which was soaked in blood. 

“I can imagine. Come on, let’s get you patched up. Do you need help walking?”

“I can manage myself, thank you.” Said Curt, before taking a few tentative, bambi-like steps and falling directly into his partner.

“Clearly.” Owen quipped, before putting an arm around Curt to support him as he limped.

“Listen, you try running 2 miles in my condition, see where it gets you.”

“Speaking of, I didn’t know you were in the country.”

“It was last minute, think that’s why MI6 didn’t put you on it. It’s a shame, really, the guy they paired me with was fucking useless.”

“Now, love-”

“I know, I know.”

Owen lowered his partner gently onto the worn leather sofa.

“You’re going to need your shirt off.” Owen remarked.

Curt grinned at this.

“If you wanted me to take my clothes off, Carvour, you should have just asked.” He teased, but he still began unbuttoning his shirt.

Owen sighed a deep, almost world weary sigh.

“You’re going to be the death of me.” He said, before finally examining his partner.

It looked worse than it was, really. Bruised knuckles, a few cuts here and there, a potential sprained ankle… There was a stab wound to the stomach but it seemed to miss anything vital. It wasn’t too deep either. Hell, Curt had left in a worse state after most of their missions together and barely complained.

Owen chuckled.

“Just as I thought.” He murmured.

Fear washed over Curt’s face for a moment.

“What’s the damage?” He asked hesitantly.

"Just your ego, you drama queen." Owen chided gently. 

Curt cocked his head to the side. 

"Nothing major," He grabbed the first aid kit from beside the window as he spoke. "You could walk straight into your base and get yourself patched up no bother. Why come to me?" 

Curt sank into his seat a bit, almost bashfully. It was subtle, but Owen was trained in this kind of thing and he knew Curt inside out.

“What, is it a crime to want to see my boyfriend?” Curt asked the question like it was the simplest thing in the world.

“I mean, literally yes?”

“Shut up, you know what I mean.”

The two fell quiet for a moment as Owen fumbled with a bottle of saline and a towel to clean the wound.

“You missed me.” Owen hummed.

“Don’t get cocky.” Curt retorted through gritted teeth. Cleaning wounds stung like a bitch but it was necessary and nothing he hadn’t done before.

“That has always been your department, love. Hold still for me, will you?”

“Trying.”

“I know darling. Don’t worry, the worst of it is over.”

There was something tender to this ritual, Curt found, something innately intimate. He tried to let himself settle into it. Owen was right there in front of him, smiling hazily and softly, so intently focused at the task at hand, and in that moment Curt knew he was home.

Owen’s hands didn’t leave Curt’s body for long, gently moving to press bandages against his stomach. Owen was silent but attentive as he worked.

“These are going to need replaced as soon as you get back, got it?”

Curt nodded. As he did, his watch beeped loudly. 

"Mega, you insubordinate, no good piece of shit." Cynthia bellowed from the other end. "If you've gone and gotten yourself killed-" 

Before he could say anything, Owen spoke for him. 

"Don't worry Cynthia, Curt's with me. He got a bit scraped up is all."

"Owen? MI6 said you wouldn't be on this mission.”

“Well, you know me love, can’t stop myself from fixing Curt’s messes, can I?”

Curt scowled at this, clearly unaffected but a bit dramatic. Cynthia cackled at the other end of the line.

“Okay agent, just don’t go killing him on me, will you? We do need him back alive.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, dear.” Owen grinned.

“Oh, and Curt?”

Curt perked up a bit at the sound of his name.

“Next time you turn off your tracker I’ll cut out your heart and force-feed it to your grieving mother.” Cynthia’s voice rang cool and clear throughout the room.

“Gotcha.” Curt grimaced.

With an audible click the call shut off.

“Well she’s lovely, isn’t she?”

“She’s… herself.” Curt muttered.

“She cares a lot about you, you know.” Owen said lightly, carding a hand softly through his lover’s hair. “She just doesn’t know how to show it.”

“And what about you?” Curt asked, leaning the smallest amount into the touch.

“I think you’re an idiot.” Owen said, affection bleeding into his voice despite himself.

“Really?”

“Utterly and completely.”

“Well then I’m lucky to always have you saving my ass then.”

“Aren’t you just.”

They were both grinning, teasing, so happy to be by the other’s side even if for only a moment.

“Do you need anything?” asked Owen. “Food, water-”

“Just water, please, and some aspirin if you have it.”

“We probably just have paracetamol, love, will that do?”

Curt nodded wordlessly, moving to lie down on the sofa as soon as Owen re-entered with a blanket, some water, some painkillers and a pair of pyjamas.

“You alright?” Owen asked.

Curt didn’t reply, just downed the water and the pills with an audible gulp and quickly threw the clothes on. Owen barely had time to admire his partner’s body, the way his torso was littered in scars from their days in the field. Two years together and so much had changed and yet so little.

Absentmindedly, Owen ran a hand through Curt’s hair, watching as Curt leaned into it ever so slightly. Owen wasn’t affectionate often but he could make exceptions from time to time.

“I love you, you know that, right?” He whispered.

Curt nodded softly and for once in their busy lives everything was calm and perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey folks - hope you enjoyed this. Any and all feedback is welcome!


End file.
